


to bring back the world anew

by Starwardsfrost



Series: to bring back the world anew [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bard the Bowman is So Done, F/M, GNU Terry Pratchett, Moria | Khazad-dûm, Not A Fix-It, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, SPEAKING IN CAPITAL LETTERS BECAUSE IT'S LIKE DEATH FROM DISCWORLD, Suicidal Thoughts, The LOTR Appendixes, getting horribly lost and making new friends along the way, references to mythology and folklore, taking a shower won't cure your depression but it certainly won't hurt, unnecessary linguistics headcannons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-25 04:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13826892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starwardsfrost/pseuds/Starwardsfrost
Summary: In an act of recklessness and exasperation, Tauriel the elf promised to wed Kíli the dwarf if only he would run just a little bit faster, as there was an angry dragon chasing them, and now was no time to dawdle.Perhaps this was a bad idea. The valar knew she hadn't thought about it before she said it. But that didn't lessen how much she meant it.But even this act of recklessness could not stop the tides of fate.She is exiled from the only home she's ever known. Her husband is dead far sooner than she could have expected. What will the reckless elf captain do now?This is the long and serious fic I have been hoarding on my laptop for years. I am finally brave enough to share it with the world. We will be dealing with themes of recovery, found families, and finding ones place in the world. Join me on this over researched foray into the land of what if...





	1. Prologue: Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi folks! welcome to the Prologue! In this chapter, Bard is so done with this shit. Dwarves have varying degrees of plausible deniability. Legolas has an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. Kíli is a happy dwarf.
> 
> This fic is going to contain angst... you have been warned.

It was a few hours past midnight, and Bard was exhausted. He had just killed a Dragon, nearly lost his three children, and everything else had gone up in flames.  
Literally. The people were calling him King Bard Dragonslayer, which was, in his opinion, a ridiculous title. He wanted nothing to do with it.  
But the Master was missing, presumed dead, and Bard had just slain the cursed beast from the mountain. The townspeople were frightened and looked for a leader where they could find one. Bard was good enough.

This spur of the moment decision of the townspeople had some merit. After all, Bard was an honorable and honest man. He had shown over the years that he was hardworking and had a solid mind for trade and matters of business. He cared deeply for his children. And perhaps most of all, he was the only man who had spoken up against the dwarves returning to Erebor. He had foretold the chaos which the people had now seen with their very eyes. Thus, the townspeople agreed he would be their King, for he was canny, honest, and brave. 

And though he had been a crownless king for less than an hour, and was, for that matter, king of a haphazard refugee camp, already he was buried under worries, responsibilities, and diplomacy.

His people had begun to ask, in that foolish, stubborn, ridiculous fashion only real people could, for him to say a word of blessing over the poorly timed set of twins that had been born during the night. Only real life could be so inconvenient, Bard thought, as to send a seventeen year old, first time mother, (his daughter's age, by Yavanna!) into labor as she fled the burning town.  
Her young husband was missing, probably dead.  
And now she had twins.

Bard would have laughed at the mess of it, were the whole thing not so unbearably sad.  
What was he supposed to say the girl? How could he promise any kind of blessing on her two newborn babes? Would the girl have food to eat, or would her milk dry up as she slowly starved in the winter cold?

And then no less than three couples asked him to marry them. Apparently, dragonfire had a way of bringing one's priorities into sharp focus. When death rains burning from the sky, long engagements lose their appeal.

One pair were well over seventy years old, both of them, widowed, with grown grandchildren. The second set were just out of their teens. Bill was from Laketown, and had spent the last five years wooing Flora, that fairhaired girl from Rohan, or was it Gondor?  
The last couple weren't even his citizens or subjects. They weren't even human. And while both were probably older than Old Josie and Anjelo, who'd finally decided to tie the knot, and Bard knew nothing of the aging patterns of Elves or of Dwarves, those two gave him the impression that they might still need parental permission.  
On second thought, that was probably why they had come to him. After much pestering, he gave in.

"Give me two hours of sleep, and I will marry the lot of you at dawn! Is that good enough for you? I killed a dragon today, surely that earns two hours rest?"  
And they thanked him, left him to sleep two scarce hours. 

Just before dawn, Lily, one of the village girls, woke him up with a cup of tea and some prodding. As he blinked at her, she spoke. "Your majesty, it's nearly dawn, and you'd promised to oversee a few marriages?"

"Oh. Damn. I forgot for a moment that the world's turned upside down. I'll assume you decided to accept James' suit?" Bard grumbled.

"Yes, my lord, if you wouldn't mind."

"Alright girl, give me five minutes, meet me on the lake shore by that little grassy hill. Bring everyone else who decided they couldn't wait another thrice cursed day to get married.

""Yes sir."

"Ugh." Bard groaned as he took a sip of the tea and ran a hand across his face, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was beyond tired. A natural leader in a crisis, sure, but Bard had exactly zero knowledge of how to officiate a marriage, other than the memory of his own wedding, so many years ago. He'd been a nervous wreck that day, and now couldn't recall the slightest thing, other than how brightly she'd smiled.

And so it was that Bard the Bargeman, or Bowman, or King Dragonslayer, or whatever pompous title his people had decided to call him, walked out of his tent to perform his first official public duties as king.

He stood on the shore of the Long Lake with now _six couples_ in the grey-purple of pre-dawn light. Mist hovered around his ankles, and most of the survivors of Laketown were in attendance. Steam still rose from the heaped corpse of Smaug, out on the water. Itmay have glowed faintly orange, but was still, and utterly lifeless.Five brides stood in muddy dresses. Tauriel wore leather elven armor and a green tunic. She was a bit muddy too. It might have been orc blood which stained her green tunic, Bard didn't want to know. The six grooms were dressed in whatever muddy clothes they'd fled Laketown in.  
All the watchers were soot and mud stained. Bard had lost his coat when dragonsblood had been splattered across it, and burned right through the oilskin. He had doused the garment in lakewater, which stopped the damage, but left it sopping wet and smelling of sulfur and rotting fish. He was a mess. He wondered why anyone felt like having a wedding at the moment, in these circumstances, but decided that it wasn't worth the effort, suggesting they wait for a better time.  
He took a deep breath and began to speak.

"People of Esgaroth, Dale, and… Mirkwood?" He looked to the elf maid for confirmation, 

“The Great Greenwood." Came the irritated response from the blond elf who was watching from the crowd. He made a gesture toward the king with the open bottle of wine in his fist.

"And…"

"Erebor!" Called the dwarf in the funny hat. The other dwarf in the audience shouted,"What?" and waved his ear trumpet about.

 _"People of Esgaroth, Dale, Greenwood, and Erebor!"_ answered the hatted dwarf in a whispered shout.

Bard continued, "We are here today, because we have survived the night. Tragedy has come to us, the people of Middle Earth, and we are mostly alive. Twelve of you stand before me, asking for a wedding, by the dying light of dragonfire, which has shown us, all of us, just how mortal we are.  
You have named me a king tonight. With your faith in my leadership, I am now a king of refugees, where yesterday I was a simple bargeman.  
Now is a time of great change in the world. It is a time of hardship and of hope, of grief, and somehow, that precious joy of being alive.  
We are here because we have survived the night. That is all. That is miraculous.” Here he paused, trying to gather his thoughts. 

“In the light of such chaos, of dragons and death, the twelve of you before me have decided to grasp such meagre joys and hope before the chance is lost. You wish to marry.” The weary man smiled with a bitter sadness that filled his eyes for a fleeting moment, before he spoke again. 

“I myself understand only to well how quickly love may be lost forever to grief. Perhaps you who have gathered here are wise not to wait a moment more. Why hold out for a shining spring afternoon, when the blossoms once again paint the hillsides with color? Who can say who will survive the winter to see such a thing? I cannot. So perhaps you are wise." King Bard took a deep breath.  
"I have never performed such a ceremony before, but I will do my best. First, may I ask if there are any specific traditions and foreign customs which must be included?"

"Kíli! Did you carve her a marriage bead?" yelled the dwarf in the ridiculous hat.

"Yes Bofur! Of course I did! Will you and Oin witness the prayers after?"

"Don't you dare say 'em in front o’ this lot, laddie!"

"Of course not. Wouldn't want to anger Uncle Thorin, would I?"

"More than by marrying an elf? Not sure you can Kíli!"

And then Kíli whispered to Tauriel, "Is there a different elven tradition for this?"

"Words in the tongue of the old High Elves, Quenya. I don't know them myself, but Legolas probably does."

"Should he be doing this ceremony then?" asked Bard.

"Marry us the Mannish way first. We’ll sort out the rest later." said Tauriel.

"Alright then." Bard said. "Clasp hands with your betrothed, and repeat after me…” 

_What have I done?_ Tauriel thought, glancing at the tired king of Men before her. She could hardly believe how her life had changed in just a blink of an eye.  
_Scarce months ago I never thought I would leave my beloved woods. Now I cannot comprehend why I stayed. What was there for me? Another six centuries under the scrutiny of the Mirkwood gossip mill?_  
They never could believe that I had earned my place as guard captain. That I hadn’t won my rank on my own merit. As if I should have to be the beloved of our Prince to gain any standing, any power, in our realm!  
Tauriel was furious at the world. At Thranduil, for daring to presume how she felt. Legolas was indeed dear to the young silvan elf. He was an obnoxious, stuffy older brother to her. He was her best friend. The one she could get drunk with, and challenge to ever more ridiculous archery contests. ‘I bet you can’t make that shot whilst swinging upside down on a rope from that tree branch!’ She pictured her prince, blond hair flowing ever so elegantly, juggling a dozen apples as she shot each one out of the air. She loved him, it was true. But not how everyone seemed to think.  
_Damn Thranduil! How dare he! As if I would care what he thought on the matter if Legolas were truly my beloved? Why, if I had felt as such, there would not be a thing he could say which would separate us! But I never did! Which he would have known if anyone ever bothered to ask_ **me.** The gossips never asked, but if they had, she **would** have said. 

Her train of thought was interrupted as Bard began to speak in an official voice.

When Bard finished, he hoped that it hadn’t been total rubbish. He hated public speaking. Improvisation just made it all worse. How many times had he said “and we have survived the night!” too many, the bargeman was sure. He hoped he would have time to write some notes first before any future weddings. Even better, he thought, if someone else would do the ceremonial part and he could just do a toast after. In fact, it would be best if everyone would just let him go back to sleep. 

The pale golden sun finally broke over the fog and the shadow of the Lonely Mountain. The sky had gone from indigo and grey to a bright salmon pink. It was a lovely sunrise, for all that it illuminated soot stained snow slush and the corpse of a great hulking firedrake. He wiped his hands on his pants, and looked at the people, who were all looking at him.  
Somewhere nearby, a thrush sang, and a baby began to wail.  
"Oh! You may kiss!" he remembered. By Eru, Bard hated making speeches. Thankfully no one was looking at him now. Six sets of newlyweds were wrapped up in their own little worlds. The crowd was wandering off to deal with more important things. Bard walked away from the lake shore to get back to work.  
All in all, it was a little thing. Frivolous, distracting, and really could have waited for another time. But Bard knew that morale was a funny thing, and this little wedding kept people from falling to despair. It reminded a few citizens that there was still hope. Bard would not begrudge them this, not when his people were so close to panicking to begin with.  
Within a week, half the newlyweds were widowed or dead. He’d seen Lily's corpse on the field before Erebor, she looked as if she could have been sleeping. Bill had lost a leg, and a brother. Kili, it turned out, had been a prince of Erebor, and second heir to the throne. He was dead now, along with his brother, uncle, and so many others. His elven wife had vanished. He supposed it was for the best, considering that it would have been a diplomatic nightmare for him to have helped the prince of one neighboring country elope with a girl, a soldier, from his other neighboring country.

There were so many dead. But people are resilient. A week after the battle, another couple came to him for a wedding.

Bard tried not to think about the elven guard captain, who had vanished without a trace, or any of the others he felt like he'd failed as king. It reminded the weary king of a silly mind game little Bain had told him once. Try not to think of a pink oliphaunt, and it becomes impossible, the harder you try, the harder it gets. He tried.


	2. in the shadow of grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel left soon after the battle. But where did the young elf go? And what will she discover in the dark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So I was hoping to post a second chapter sooner, but I realized that there was a LOT of editing to be done, and it quickly morphed into something bigger than I had planned. So I am making it into two chapters, perhaps three. We shall see.  
> Be forewarned: This is one of the most angst filled chapters of this whole fic. And it will not get better for some time. 
> 
> Right now, Tauriel is dealing with severe trauma and with suicidal thoughts. **Do not read if this will trigger you!** Take care of your mental health first and foremost. 
> 
> If you still want to read about Tauriel's adventures, wait a while and skip the next few chapters, I will keep them clearly labeled.  
> She will get past this. She will recover. There are plenty of nice things to look forward to.

Tauriel left soon after the battle. 

She had realized that she was no longer the same elf.  
Something had shattered within her, leaving behind only sharp edges and pain and grief. Kíli had died. All her efforts to save him meant nothing now. This was a loss from which she would never recover. 

Upon realizing these truths, Tauriel made a decision. 

She would not linger. She would not fade. She would not grow bitter and corrupted like her king had done. She was a warrior, and she would die as one.

She ran from that field of horrors only hours after the enemy had been turned back. The earth itself was wrong here; ashy soil had mixed unevenly with the snow and rain and blood. 

She ran north to Gundabad first, chasing goblins and orcs, desperate for blood. She continued west, into the Misty Mountains, skirting around the edges of the forest kingdom she had always known as home. From within the tunnels of her prey she traveled, nearly dead, half starved, half exhausted, fading but fighting to kill every last monster before her grief consumed her. She was unaware of the passage of time. Her entire existence had been reduced to naught but darkness, anguish, and her search for revenge. 

She did not eat.

She did not sleep.

Often she was completely alone.

In the tunnels she crawled on all fours, blindly reaching forward as her thoughts echoed in her ears. _I deserved this. Death was too good for me. I should have died, not him. Not Kíli._ On and on it went. She had not seen a goblin nor an orc in a very long time. Part of her assumed she had gone mad. _But the world went mad long before I did. I am only as mad as my world requires me to be._

After a time, a time without measure or meaning, she felt the space around her in the darkness change. 

The ground became slowly more flat, more regular. The tunnel widened. Tauriel found herself no longer in the goblin tunnels. She did not know where she was. There was no light. She navigated by touch and sound alone.

She was a blind thing, reaching for something, anything at all. Once, a long time ago, she had known who she was, what she wanted.

Here in the dark, those things lost relevance. What did any of it matter? She was alone, a gaping wound in her soul where Kíli had been. It ached just to breathe this stale air. It felt as if there was just as much darkness inside her as was outside. But she kept moving.

It was something to do. Whether it was pointless or not, Tauriel kept her hands busy. Reaching one hand in front of the other, she did not stop, for to stop now would be to accept her situation in a way she was not yet ready to do. She was not ready to die just yet. _Perhaps later._ The thought was a comfort. She picked at it continuously. It would be such an easy thing to take one of her knives and drive it through her empty heart. But now was not the time.

Part of her still thought it would be preferable to die under the stars after all, not in some dark cave. But in her despair she was not sure she could face them again, now that her beloved was gone.

She feared in equal measure that they might not shine as brightly as she recalled or perhaps even worse, that they would be unchanged, just as beautiful as ever.

Somewhere there was a drip of water. It echoed across the space. Tauriel realized that her narrow tunnel had widened into a vast cavern. The air was still. No light could guide her here.

She crawled on her hands and knees away from the wall. After some distance, she felt something other than the cavern’s floor beneath her fingers. The thing had straight lines and hard edges. It was a pillar, carved out of stone.

This had been **made.** Tauriel traced along the shape with her fingertips. Someone had taken the time to create this thing.

She searched for more in the gloom. After some exploration, Tauriel determined that these enormous pillars were spaced regularly across a large area. Each pillar that she came to seemed identical to the last. The floor was polished smooth. After a bit of consideration, Tauriel decided to be brave, and got to her feet. She walked slowly, the movements stiff and unfamiliar, and she did not lift her feet above the ground, but instead slid each foot carefully across the surface, lest she trip and fall in the dark. She kept her hands stretched out in front of her and walked from pillar to pillar across the vast space.

After two hundred and ninety two pillars, Tauriel came to a wall.

The wall was not smooth, but carved with many marks. Sharp lines in a regular design. It reminded her of the stone in her pocket. Kíli’s stone.

_This was a system of writing. What had Kíli called the little marks?_

_Runes._

_But these runes are not small._ Each letter was as large as her hand. They stretched in rows along the entire wall, down to the floor and as far up as she could reach. She had no way of knowing what they said, but she kept her hands on the wall as she walked along.

After a long time, she felt the runes end and there the great carvings began. Shaped into the stone were figures of great height. At least twice as tall as her, and complete in every detail, from the laces on stone boots to the embroidery on a sleeve. The artistry and detail left her in awe. 

These carvings had not been made by any Elf or Man. Somehow, Tauriel had stumbled upon a lost kingdom of the dwarves. 

_Kíli would have known what this meant. He would have explained._  
But Kíli was dead. He could not explain.

Tauriel felt seven figures along the wall before she found the staircase. It went up.

She climbed on and on for what felt like an age. The stairs turned and twisted, this way and that, and still they went up. She kept a hand on the wall as she went along. Sometimes there were runes. Sometimes there was nothing but smooth stone. 

At last the stairs ended. She walked forward on the smooth stone floor. She felt her way along, and came to a doorway in the stone. Stepping through it, she hit her foot on an unseen step , tripped, and went careening to her knees. Her hand was bleeding a bit from the fall. She reached forward, and her hand brushed against something in the dark.

Something that felt like cold iron.

As soon as she had touched it, a gust of wind moved the stale air about. Tauriel looked around in a panic, but she could see nothing new. The moving air had touched her face though, she was sure of it. It had made a sound.

Tauriel’s ears twitched to track the faint whistle as it disappeared. There was a moment of silence, followed by a deafening rumble that had her reaching to cover her ears. A bright light came from somewhere, but it was so disorienting as to be completely useless. She closed her eyes and tried to block it all out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! What do you think? Comments and Kudos stoke the fires of inspiration, and are what gets new chapters out quicker. 
> 
> With regards to this chapter, I tried to write it honestly. I have struggled with depression and suicidal thoughts for a long time. While I have never been an immortal elf lost in goblin tunnels while in a precarious emotional state, I have been a sobbing mess completely lost and adrift in the world, pushing away the people I care about, running from place to place caring far more about what i'm running from than where I might end up. and that's the emotional state I was writing from.
> 
> Please, if you are going through anything like this, seek help. I promise it's worth it. I promise it can get better.


	3. An Unexpected Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost deep underground, Tauriel accidentally summons the spirit of Durin, who is pleasantly surprised when he wakes to find a distressed elf in the ruins of Khazad-dum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! an update! I know it's been a while... I also know that there are a bunch of people wishing I would update A Fish Who Left Her River... but I'm not gonna do that. I have written several thousand words for it, but alas, I'm kinda losing steam on that one. Something about writing about monarchies irks me to no end. 
> 
> Some of you might be thinking... _But Starwardsfrost, why are you writing so many stories about royalty and princes who grow up in disguise?_ but all I can do is shrug. I don't know guys.  
>  what I like writing is pissed off women dealing with trauma and taking their fates into their own hands.  
> What I like writing is exasperated grownups dealing with charming troublemaker children.
> 
> But whatever. I took a break and wrote 6,000 words of Harry Potter fanfic and gained some perspective. Expect that shortly, if you are interested.
> 
> And at long last, I am thrilled to say that I am finally ready to introduce Durin, the best dwarrow crisis counselor this side of the misty mountains!  
> I picture him as a more snazzily dressed Uncle Iroh from Avatar the Last Airbender.
> 
> Update 4-16-2018: I tweaked a few things in this chapter and the one before it after a sudden revelation about dwarf magic and how it might work. I think it makes more sense this way.

When, at last, the noise and light had faded, she opened her eyes again. There was a figure standing before her, a spectre of blue light in the form of a mighty dwarf. His long dark hair and beard were strung with many shining beads, as if he wore the stars within. Like the other dwarves she had known, he showed off many types of craftsmanship on his person. Well made weapons, namely a warhammer, and finely made mail were a given, but also a leather vest and sturdy boots with fine details embossed upon them, and what looked like a soft knit thing around his neck. 

Unlike the other dwarves Tauriel had met, he glowed in the dark as if he was made of stardust.

The glow was enough to illuminate the room, small and plain as it was, and she could see that he stood upon a great anvil. As she was kneeling on the ground in front of it, she could see the runes carved into the base, and the dark glistening of her bloody handprint upon the shining metal. She wondered why the dwarves would make an anvil out of silver, which was a rather soft metal. _And shouldn't it have tarnished? Or rusted?_ These caverns had obviously been abandoned for a very long time, after all. 

She looked up at the strange dwarf before her and gulped.

He looked at her as if he could see right through her.

“AND WHO ARE YOU, LITTLE FANDÛNA?” the spirit asked.

“What?” She gave him a look that reminded the old dwarf king of a startled rabbit. “I’m Tauriel. Who are you? Where did you come from?” She faced him in brave confusion.

“WELL, I AM DURIN, AND I COME FROM MAHAL, THE MAKER.”

“And just where is here?”

“HERE IS THE HEART OF KHAZAD-DUM. THIS IS MY KINGDOM. HOW DID YOU FIND THIS PLACE?”

Tauriel tried to come up with an explanation. It was surprisingly hard. Her voice was raw from disuse and words felt foreign and strange. She grasped for something, anything to say.“I got lost.” She blurted out.

“I CAN SEE THAT, LITTLE ONE.” He remarked with a faint smile. He peered at her. “NOT JUST ANYONE COULD HAVE AWOKEN ME FROM MY SLUMBER, YOU KNOW.”

“Huh?” 

“THERE IS OLD MAGIC ON THESE STONES. MAGIC THE WORLD HAS MOST LIKELY LONG FORGOTTEN IF I AM READING THIS SITUATION CORRECTLY.”

“What do you mean?” Tauriel asked.

“I MEAN THAT THIS IS A SACRED SPACE WITHIN A KINGDOM I BUILT WITH MY OWN HANDS. A KINGDOM OF DWARVES. THE VERY FACT THAT YOU ARE HERE IMPLIES GRAVE THINGS ABOUT THE FATE OF MY PEOPLE. THE SILENCE WITHIN THESE HALLS, THE PRESENCE OF A LOST ELF MAIDEN. I SUSPECT I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED HERE, AND IT MAKES ME WANT TO WEEP.”

“I’m sorry.” Tauriel didn’t know what else to say.

“WHAT ARE YOU SORRY FOR? IT WAS NOT YOUR FAULT. IN TRUTH IT WAS MINE IF IT WAS ANYONE'S AT ALL.” 

“I did not mean to disturb you. Nor to bring you grief.”

“I DO NOT MIND THAT YOU HAVE AWAKENED ME LIKE THIS. WHILE I DID NOT EXPECT IT, CONSIDERING THE SPELLS WHICH CALLED ME FORTH, IT COULD HAVE BEEN FAR WORSE. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

“I was chasing orcs near Mount Gundabad some time ago, when I became lost in their tunnels. You are the first person I’ve seen in a long time.”

“AND WHY EXACTLY WERE YOU CHASING THE ORCS IN THEIR OWN TUNNELS?”

“I wanted revenge.” Tauriel looked at the dwarf spirit, and he saw that her eyes were filled with wrath.

“AND DID YOU FIND IT?”

“I slew many before I lost my way in the tunnels.”

“YOU SOUND DISAPPOINTED.” He sighed and sat down on the great anvil, closer to her on the floor.

Tauriel thought about what he had said. She was.  
She sighed. 

“I CAN SEE YOU ARE TROUBLED. TELL ME WHAT IT IS THAT UPSETS YOU SO.”

“I failed. I- I ruined everything.” Tauriel’s words fell out of her mouth like water escaping a dam. Durin listened, waiting patiently for the young elf to elaborate. “I just wanted to help. I wanted to do my job. I was a captain, you see, and I was good at it. Every day I fought dark creatures that threatened my kingdom. But my king grew bitter over the centuries. He would have had us hide away from the world as the forces of evil gained power over lands we once called our own. We failed our neighbors again and again when they needed our help. 

And I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stand back and watch innocent people die.

So I defied my king and was banished. I was so angry that I didn’t even think. I just ran. I did what I felt was right instead of second guessing it. I gave my heart away freely to the first person who asked, and I was so, so happy for a moment, happy and angry both, and then it all fell apart.” Tauriel took a gasping breath. “He died so fast. There was a dragon, and we survived that, but then there was a battle that followed, and I couldn’t get to him fast enough.” Tauriel’s eyes filled with tears. It just _hurt_ so much. What was she supposed to do now? Live, with this gaping hole in her soul? She had no family to ask for help. Her only true friend was Legolas, and he wouldn’t understand how she could have changed so quickly. She did not fully understand, but it was no less true. She was not the same person she had been. She wasn’t sure she even recognized herself anymore.

Durin asked her a question which made him very uncomfortable, but had to be asked. “Tauriel, were you looking for death here?”

Tauriel looked up at him from her place on the floor, eyes frantic. Unable to reply, she just sobbed. Once the tears spilled out, they flowed freely, a hot mess of shame and anger and grief that she had not the faintest notion how to deal with.  
The old dwarf looked down upon the young elf and held her as she wept. The poor elleth had no idea what she had wandered into the middle of. He would just have to teach her himself.

“LITTLE ONE, I NEED YOU TO LISTEN TO ME. DO YOU MIND IF I SIT DOWN WITH YOU? THERE. THAT IS MUCH BETTER. NOW LET ME SEE IF I CAN FIX YOUR HAIR.”  
“What?” Tauriel tried to ask. It came out as a hiccup. “—!?”

“IT LOOKS LIKE SOMETHING DIED IN IT. COME HERE AND LET ME HELP.” Tauriel was not sure how she came to be sitting on the floor in a cave letting a ghost fix her hair, but she did not stop him as he pulled out a comb. He began at the ends, carefully easing the tangles apart with a practiced ease. She didn’t stop crying for a long time, but hiccuped along in the quiet.  
Eventually the dwarf spoke again. “YOU HAVE MUCH DARKNESS INSIDE OF YOU RIGHT NOW. IT FIGHTS TO STEAL YOUR GOODNESS, YOUR COURAGE, YOUR LIFE. DO NOT LET THE DARKNESS DEFEAT YOU.” 

“I’m tired of fighting.”

“I AM SORRY. IF IT WERE UP TO ME, YOU WOULD NOT HAVE TO.” The spirit of the old dwarf grimaced. “FORGIVE ME FOR SOUNDING TRITE, BUT I DO NOT THINK YOUR FIGHT IS OVER JUST YET.” He took a deep breath. Working at her matted locks, he pulled out a piece of gravel. “YOU ARE AT A CROSSROADS MY LITTLE ONE.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“YOUR OLD LIFE IS GONE. YOU CANNOT HAVE IT BACK NO MATTER HOW YOU MIGHT WISH IT. BUT STILL YOU GRIEVE. IT HURTS, AND YOU FEEL ALONE. YOU DO NOT WANT TO SAY GOODBYE TO ALL YOU HAVE EVER KNOWN, BUT THIS WAS NOT YOUR CHOICE. OTHERS MADE THAT DECISION FOR YOU.” He eased apart the long strands of copper at her back. He had known dwarrow who would have killed for hair like this, and seeing it in this state made him feel a little sick inside. If it were not for her pointed ears, he would have found it hard to believe her an elf. “SO NOW YOU ARE ANGRY, AND HURT. IF YOU CANNOT GO BACK, WHAT DO YOU DO? IT SEEMS EASIER TO DIE BY AN ORCISH BLADE THAN TO FACE YOUR PAIN AND GRIEF.” Durin had now combed through several handspans of her matted hair. “I CAN UNDERSTAND THAT. BUT YOU WERE TOO MUCH A WARRIOR TO DIE THIS WAY. NO ORC WAS A MATCH FOR YOUR FEROCITY. YOU HAD TO MUCH ANGER TO JUST LET THEM KILL YOU.” Now he had found a big knot that seemed to contain every last wisp of her hair. It may have once began at the base of her neck, but was now too big, and the base of it rested between her shoulder blades. “YOU DID NOT END YOUR LIFE YOURSELF, I SUSPECT, BECAUSE YOU STILL WANTED TO DIE FIGHTING.” He eased apart the knot. “BUT PERHAPS I CAN OFFER YOU SOME ALTERNATIVES.”

“What can you do?” he could hear the tears in her voice. “My love is dead. I will never see him again, not in this life, or any after. I have no desire to linger in this world if it will give me no peace.”

“I SEE.” He was making progress at last. “AND WHAT IF PEACE IS AN ILLUSION?”

“What do you mean?”

“PERHAPS I AM INCORRECT, LITTLE ONE, BUT OVER THE COURSE OF MY LONG LIFE I HAVE KNOWN MANY ELVES, AND EVEN CALLED A FAIR FEW MY FRIEND. AND IN SUCH FRIENDSHIP, I HAVE LEARNED MUCH OF ELVEN CULTURE AND THOUGHT. AND ONE OF THE THINGS THAT HAS EVER STOOD OUT TO ME IS THE ELVEN OBSESSION WITH PRESERVATION. TO KEEP THINGS PRISTINE, WITH NATURAL BEAUTY. TO WARD THE FORESTS AND WILD SPACES FROM EVIL, AND TO ATTEMPT TO FREEZE TIME ITSELF, FOR YOUR KIND HAVE EVER UNDERSTOOD DEATH TO BE EVIL AND WRONG.”

Tauriel nodded, waiting for the old dwarf to go on.

“BUT THIS IS NOT, IN FACT, AN ABSOLUTE TRUTH. WHAT IS AN ABSOLUTE TRUTH YOU WONDER? CHANGE. ALL LIVING BEINGS EXPERIENCE CHANGE. DEATH, FOR ALL BUT MYSELF AND A SCARCE FEW OTHERS, IS AN ABSOLUTE, IRREVERSIBLE CHANGE. AND YOU FEAR IT, MY DEAR, BECAUSE YOU COME FROM A CULTURE THAT HAS FEARED SUCH CHANGES SINCE BEFORE THE FIRST SUNRISE.  
BUT US MORTALS, WE LIVE SUCH A SHORT WHILE THAT WE CANNOT TRULY STOP TO FEAR OUR FRAGILE EXISTENCE. WE MUST LIVE OUR LIVES. WE MUST EMBRACE CHANGE TO FIND ANY HAPPINESS AT ALL.

“And that makes peace an elvish illusion?” Tauriel asked raising an eyebrow.

“THERE IS NO BEING WHICH IS IMMUNE TO TIME, LITTLE ONE, FOR ALL THAT YOUR KIND DOES NOT AGE AS MORTALS DO.”

“And so there will never be peace?”

“I DID NOT SAY THAT. PEACE, JOY, LOVE, THEY EXIST. BUT THEY ARE LIKE CLOUDS. YOU CANNOT HOLD SUCH THINGS. JOY WILL COME AND GO, AND IF YOU ARE WISE YOU WILL FEEL WHAT YOU FEEL WHILE IT LASTS.”

“But what do I do now. I was not trained for this.”

“AND LIKEWISE YOU WERE NOT TRAINED TO LOVE A DWARF. BUT YOU DID.”

“How did you know that?” Tauriel spun around to face the dwarf-spirit, yanking her hair in the process.

“I AM DURIN. THE FIRST DWARF.” He turned her head back so he could return to work. There was dried blood in her hair. It had formed a sort of glue. This would need to be washed out. Carefully, he picked the strands apart until there were at least no knots in it. “IF YOUR LOVE HAD NOT BEEN ONE OF MY DESCENDANTS, BUT AN ELF OR MAN, THE MAGIC IN THIS PLACE WOULD NOT HAVE WOKEN ME FROM MY SLUMBER IN THE MAKER’S HALLS TO SPEAK TO YOU.”

“His name was Kíli.”

“KÍLI. WHAT A FINE NAME. AND HE HAS LEFT THIS WORLD FOR THE HALLS OF THE WAITING, I PRESSUME?” 

“Is that where the dwarves go after death?” Tauriel asked.

“IT IS.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“WE WAIT FOR THE GREAT REFORGING. WHEN THIS WORLD COMES TO AN END, MAHAL WILL WAKE US TO REBUILD A NEW EARTH.”

“And that is a real place?”

“AS REAL AS THIS CHAMBER. HOW ELSE COULD I COME BACK TO SPEAK TO YOU?”

“I don’t know. I was unaware spirits could come back from death at all.”

“I AM SOMETHING OF A SPECIAL CASE.”

“How so?”

“I REINCARNATE ON A FAIRLY REGULAR BASIS. DEATH HAS NEVER HAD A PARTICULARLY STRONG HOLD ON ME.”

“Oh.” Tauriel was reminded once again that dwarves were strange folk.

“HOW DID KÍLI DIE?”

“He died fighting beside me in a terrible battle at the foot of Erebor.”

“EREBOR? THAT IS WHAT YOU ELVES CALL AZSÂLUL’ABAD, IS IT NOT? THAT IS FAR FROM THIS PLACE. IT WAS A SMALL MINING COLONY WHEN I WAS LAST ALIVE. WHAT IS IT LIKE NOW?”

“It was once the greatest kingdom of the dwarves, when I was a young elfling. I remember sneaking out to see the merchant caravans with my friend Legolas when I was barely a hundred years old. It was said that the dwarves of Erebor could make anything from the riches they found in their mountain. But about two centuries ago the dragon Smaug was lured by the golden hoard amassed by Thrór, the king of the dwarves, and the dragon laid waste to everything in its path. Both Erebor and the nearby human city of Dale fell in a single day. I had just joined the guard then. My king refused to fight the beast. We weren’t close, not really, but the smoke still filled our forest for weeks after. It was awful. People still call the lands around that mountain _The Desolation_. 

“Smaug the Terrible held the mountain for nearly two centuries, until a group of dwarves from the west came to take the mountain back. My Kíli was among them.”

“TELL ME ABOUT YOUR KÍLI.”  
“He was brave. I found him and his Company besieged by the giant Spiders who have occupied Mirkwood in recent years. I fight them every day, but he had never, never seen one in all his life. And yet he was cracking jokes with his brother and finding the weakest places in their armor to shoot. I’d never met anyone like that before. I didn’t even know dwarves could _use_ bows. He just stumbled into my life and I started rethinking everything I had ever learned. He made me laugh like I never had in all my years. He made me want to be a better person.”

“AND WERE YOU?”

“I tried.”

“I KNOW THE LORE. ELVES ONLY LOVE ONCE IN YOUR LIFETIMES. AND YOU LOVED HIM?”

“I am certain of it.” She hadn’t always been certain. She wasn’t sure that she even cared until she found him dying the first time on Bard’s kitchen table. 

“THEN I AM PROUD DWARF TO HAVE SUCH A WORTHY DAUGHTER. THANK YOU FOR WAKING ME AS YOU HAVE.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it.
> 
> Next chapter is really just the second half of this chapter, which grew so out of hand that it had to be split in half. As such, it is written, and I will be posting it very soon
> 
> What did you think? Comments are the fuel of frequent updates... so please comment if you feel the inclination.


	4. An Unpleasant Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Durin offers Tauriel a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (please note: this chapter was really hard to write. sure, it's pure fantasy, but fiction reflects and affects real life. So please, if you will listen to me for just one moment more: 
> 
> Please Do Not Have a Baby If You Think It Will Solve Your Problems. Especially Mental Health Problems.  
> you will just have all your problems from before, with the addition of a baby.
> 
> thank you very much.)  
> (also, if you are so excited to be a parent, consider adoption. there are so many kids in this world in need of a loving home.)

The old dwarf paused for a moment, as if weighing something over in his mind. He pulled apart the last knot of hair with no small satisfaction. “AS MUCH AS I ENJOY YOUR COMPANY, HOWEVER, YOU CANNOT STAY HERE. UNDERGROUND IN THE DARK LIKE THIS IS NO PLACE FOR A LITTLE FANDÛNA. YOU WOULD BE FOREVER DIMINISHED. SO WE MUST DECIDE WHERE YOU WILL GO FROM HERE."  
"Where could I go? I have no home to return to."  
"I WILL GIVE YOU A CHOICE. IT IS NOT AN EASY CHOICE, BUT YOU MUST CHOOSE ALL THE SAME. IT PERTAINS TO THOSE ALTERNATIVES I MENTIONED EARLIER. BOTH WOULD BE A CHOICE BETWEEN IRREVERSIBLE CHANGES, BUT I THINK YOU ARE BRAVE ENOUGH FOR IT.   
THE FIRST OPTION IS THIS: I CAN END YOUR PAIN FOREVER RIGHT NOW IF YOU WOULD WISH IT. YOU CAN COME WITH ME AND I CAN BRING YOU TO MAHALS HALLS, WHERE YOU MAY WAIT, ASLEEP, FOR THE REBIRTH OF THE WORLD, BESIDE YOUR KÍLI. THIS PATH WOULD BE EASIEST.   
THE SECOND OPTION IS FAR MORE DIFFICULT, BUT COULD ALSO GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE. I CAN GUIDE YOU BACK TO THE SURFACE, WHERE THERE ARE TREES AND STARLIGHT AND A WILD WIND STILL BLOWS DOWN FROM THE MOUNTAINS. IN THE WORLD ABOVE, THERE ARE GREAT CHANGES COMING.  
IF YOU CHOOSE TO RETURN TO THE WORLD, YOU WILL MEET YOUR CHILD.”

“My child?” What. She froze. 

“YES, TAURIEL, YOUR CHILD. IT IS THE WAY OF SUCH THINGS, TAURIEL. YOU HAVE A CHILD IN YOUR WOMB WHO COULD HELP DRIVE ALL OF MIDDLE EARTH INTO A NEW ERA. SOMEONE WHO COULD FORCE BOTH YOUR PEOPLE AND MINE TO CHANGE HOW THEY THINK ABOUT EACH OTHER. BUT ONLY IF YOU GUIDE THEM, RAISE THEM WELL, AND COMMIT FULLY TO YOUR TASK. IF YOU CHOOSE THE FIRST OPTION, TO COME TO THE HALLS OF WAITING, THEN THEY WILL CEASE TO BE.”

“And if I return to the surface, could I ever see Kíli again?”

“YOU MAY ONE DAY FIND YOUR WAY INTO THE MAKER’S HALLS, BUT YOU WILL HAVE TO FIND YOUR OWN WAY THERE. IT WILL NOT BE AN EASY PATH.” 

Tauriel felt frustration building within her. Her grief had hurt so much that she longed for death. Part of her wanted nothing more than to follow the old dwarf king down into the darkness of oblivion, to find her love in the next world.

But she had to know the truth. She took a moment to examine her self. She noticed half a hundred small scrapes and cuts on her skin, some scabbed over and some not. She felt bruises all along her body too. She noticed to some surprise that she was starving, quite literally. Her ribs protruded too far from the skin of her torso, and her clothes fit loosely over sharp elbows and knees. She was fatigued and dehydrated and her inner energy was frayed and weak. She felt it pool around her injuries and flow in and out with her breath. And now that she thought to look for it, she did see that her energy was pooled about her lower abdomen, forming a sort of defensive shield around something that was not her. Something alive. It was inside her but not her own.

It was frankly bizarre. No wonder she barely recognized herself. Confusion and fear brewed deep in her stomach like thunderclouds. Part of her was thinking _How?_ but she knew exactly how. It was still a shock. 

“How did you know this? _I_ did not know this.” 

“IT IS IN THE MAGIC THAT PERMEATES THESE STONES. IT WAS A SECURITY FEATURE THAT I CREATED MYSELF WHEN I FOUNDED KHAZAD-DUM. SHOULD ONE OF MY DESCENDENTS SHED BLOOD UPON THE SACRED ANVIL IN A TIME OF GREAT NEED, AND I BE BETWEEN REINCARNATIONS, MY SPIRIT WOULD BE CALLED FORTH FROM THE HALLS OF MAHAL TO PROVIDE AID. AS YOU ARE QUITE OBVIOUSLY _NOT_ MY DESCENDENT, I MADE A FEW EDUCATED GUESSES.” 

Tauriel thought about it. She wasn’t fond of magic. It was confusing and dangerous and she didn’t have the patience for it. At most, she knew enough of magic theory to understand the speech of trees and to do basic healing magics. She wasn’t good at it, but she did not pretend to be. Knowing as little as she did, she could only conclude that Durin’s explanation seemed as plausible as anything else magic was supposedly able to do.

“Okay. So I am to be a mother. Can you - can you give me a moment to process this?”

“TAKE YOUR TIME.” Durin said.

Tauriel’s mind raced. Children were blessings of the Valar, every elf knew that. So they had blessed her bond with Kíli. That was unexpected. She wanted to know what Kili would say if he knew.   
She recalled how delighted he had been by Bard’s offspring. He probably would have been thrilled to hear about their baby. And terrified. He would have wanted to tell his brother. But they had never talked about children. Elves were never the most fertile of races to begin with, and she hadn’t even considered that their wedding night could have had such consequences. 

But the Valar had blessed her union and she had been too distracted to even take note. That wasn’t an auspicious beginning. Nor was the fact that she was finding all this out from a spirit in a cave after she tried and failed to end her own life. Children needed mothers who could love them and help them grow strong. If she chose her child she could not take her decision back. She would have to fight off the grief somehow, impossible as it seemed at the moment. 

Tauriel thought of how King Thranduil had grown bitter and sharp after Legolas’s mother left. She did not want to end up like that. Perhaps it would be better if she gave up the babe and went to join her beloved in a new world. Perhaps the next world would be a kinder place, and there would be other children, but she could not know for certain. It was a cruel thing, but she suspected there would be a cost to rejecting a blessing of the Valar. Most elven marriages were considered lucky if they conceived once in five hundred years. 

“Alright. So here’s what I’m thinking. I’m thinking that this is horrible timing. Just the worst. I’m not okay right now, and Kíli’s kid, _my kid,_ deserves better than this. I am thinking that I have absolutely no idea how to be a good parent. I am thinking that in the six hundred years I have been alive, I have _never_ thought about this. I was not the kind of elleth who got to be a mother. Always too aggressive, too harsh. Most of my own people barely tolerated me because I wanted to be a warrior and not a gentle maiden singing songs. I am thinking that right now you are essentially my only friend right now. I have no living family. My parents died when I was very young, and I have no one else that I could turn to for help with raising a child. 

I am thinking that Kíli should be here. He should be living and breathing and facing this with me. Maybe it wouldn’t be so terrifying then. I can imagine him carrying our child on his shoulders and seeing a smile light up his whole face. But he is dead. And knowing that I carry his child now is to take the knife in my flesh that is my grief and to _twist._

You say I could see him again, if I were to follow you. That I could fall asleep and awaken in another world, where he and I are alive once more. But how could I tell him what became of me when he died? It is not in my nature to lie. And he would not want to see me like this. I don’t want to see myself like this. I could not hurt him like that.” Tauriel paused in her ranting to take a breath.

“And the Valar would do not grant second chances. I cannot act as if there is any chance of a future child. And how I hate this. This is not fair, to ask me this.”

“NO. IT IS NOT FAIR. LIFE IS NOT FAIR, LITTLE ONE.”

“Do you think I could do it? Be a good mother?”

“I THINK YOUR OPINION MATTERS FAR MORE THAN MINE.”

“But I don’t know what to do.”

“IS THAT SO?”

Tauriel thought about it. She wondered if there was any possibility of seeing Kíli again without losing their child in the bargain. Because she knew what she wanted, in truth. She wanted both Kíli and their kid, or to die not knowing this preposterous choice. But she could not have both, could she?

“Where are the Halls of the Waiting?” Tauriel asked, latching on to a glimmer of hope.

“THE HALLS OF MAHAL ARE A SECRET. THEY ARE NOT EASY TO FIND. BETWEEN ONE HEARTBEAT AND THE NEXT. AS CLOSE AS YOUR SKIN, AS FAR AWAY AS THE DISTANT HORIZON, THEY ARE FOUND.”

“Can I find the way there?”

“YOU WOULD BE THE FIRST, BUT PERHAPS YOU COULD DO IT.” He smiled at that thought.

“I have an eternity to look.” She matched his smile with one of her own.

“THEN HAVE YOU MADE YOUR DECISION?”

“No. I have more questions. Kíli told me that there were several assassination attempts on him and his brother when they were children. And the dwarves, especially of Erebor, hate the elves of Mirkwood for leaving them to face the dragon alone. I cannot return home, but I cannot expect safety among Kíli’s people. Is there somewhere I can go where we would be safe until my child is grown?”

“YOU KNOW, FANDÛNA, THE GREAT THING ABOUT A FRIENDSHIP WITH ELVES IS THAT EVEN THOUGH I HAVE BEEN DEAD FOR CENTURIES NOW, I KNOW WHERE TO FIND SOMEONE I TRUST.”

“And this someone would give me a place to stay?”

“SHE WOULD DO MORE THAN THAT, LITTLE ONE. IT WILL MAKE HER CENTURY TO HEAR YOUR STORY.” The old dwarf laughed. _She was going to meddle **so** much!_ he thought to himself. More importantly perhaps, Durin was going to win a drunken bet from over a thousand years ago, if anyone was still alive to remember it when he next reincarnated. 

Tauriel had made up her mind. “I want to know my child. I want to leave this darkness for now. Kíli will wait for me until we can find him.” Tauriel said this with conviction. A fire lit in her green eyes and she was filled with determination.

“YES HE WILL.” Durin smiled. He was glad she had been canny enough to see the most fruitful outcome. This girl was sharp as steel and tough as mithril.

“And I will find him.”

“IF YOU HAVE SET YOUR MIND TO IT, I DO NOT THINK THERE IS A FORCE IN THIS WORLD THAT COULD STOP YOU, TAURIEL. MOUNTAINS WILL CRUMBLE FIRST.”

“And you will help me find the surface again?”

“I WILL GUIDE YOU OUT OF THIS PLACE. NOT FAR FROM THE DOOR LIVES A LADY WHOM I HAVE OFTEN CALLED FRIEND. SHE WILL HELP YOU AND YOUR CHILD.” Durin carefully pulled two shining beads from his beard. “AND YOU WILL TAKE THESE TWO BEADS WITH YOU. THIS ONE IS FOR YOUR MOTHERHOOD BRAID, AND THIS YOUR CHILD WILL WEAR TO SHOW THEY ARE YOUR CHILD. THE BRAIDS ARE FAIRLY SIMPLE, IT GOES LIKE THIS.” He demonstrated with a lock of her hair. Unlike her marriage braid, which still had not come undone since Kíli had shown her how to do it, this one was familiar. Two thin plaits twisted around a third unbraided lock of hair. It was more complicated than most silvan braids, but not difficult to replicate.

"WHEN YOU REACH THE SURFACE, THERE IS A LAKE. IT IS ONE OF THE WONDERS OF THE WORLD AND IS SACRED TO MY PEOPLE. YOU MUST WASH YOURSELF CLEAN IN THE WATERS OF THE LAKE AND THEN BRAID YOUR HAIR AS I HAVE TAUGHT YOU. THE WATER HAS SPECIAL PROPERTIES AND WILL PROTECT YOU AND THE BABE.”

“Thank you.”

“AND ONE LAST THING, TAURIEL. MY PEOPLE ARE NOT YET READY FOR A HALF ELVEN KING. LET THEM LEARN OF THE BOYS DEEDS BEFORE THEY JUDGE HIM FOR HIS LINEAGE.”

They reached a stone door. Durin placed his hands upon the stone and it moved aside as if by magic. She stepped into the sunlight and turned around. The door was gone. All she could see was the rocky side of a great mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did y'all think? Comments? anything? nothing? ok.


	5. Rebirth in the World of the Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel takes a moment to appreciate the fresh air and sunshine, takes a bath, marvels at how such simple things can make her feel so very much better.

Tauriel wondered at the sight of barren stone where a moment before there had been. Reaching out because she did not believe her eyes, she felt the cold and very solid rock. Lichen grew upon the surface, and moss. It was all solid and real. The air smelled alive in a way she had sort of forgotten during her journey underground. She could smell the earth, the green things growing, and clear flowing water nearby. 

Looking down the slope she saw a sight that took her breath away. There was a lake that held the stars within its depths. So clear was the water, so still the surface. She had never seen anything like it.

She climbed down to the water’s edge and said a prayer of thanks in the old Silvan tongue to Aulë the smith as Mahal, maker of the dwarves for bringing her to this place. She felt in her pocket two beads and a familiar stone. Proof that it had been real. She had been lost in the darkness and some force she did not understand had found her and brought her back. 

Not about to ignore the instructions of the spirit that guided her to safety, she found a large boulder that overlooked the water. She removed her weapons and her boots, laid out her clothes on the rock. They had been stained beyond repair, she saw, but she would just have to hope Durin’s friend would have something else she could wear. Her bow had been broken, she would have to make a new one at some point. Her knives were dirty, but she had not lost any, so that was nice. Her precious keepsakes, the three beads and Kili’s runestone, she hid in a boot. Naked, she dove into the strange and beautiful lake. She wondered how long she had been underground, for the sun was shining brightly and the world was green here. Green and bright as she hadn’t seen in centuries. Wildflowers bloomed on the banks here and there. It was surely spring now. Kíli had died in the early days of Narvinyë. Just after new years day, probably, although she had had other things on her mid at the time and could not say for certain. By the warmth of the day she would guess it was past Tuilérë, the spring equinox, at the very least, perhaps by a few weeks. That would make this month Víressë if not Lótessë. Four or five months she could only barely account for.

It was frightening to think how in her despair, the world had continued to exist, and seasons had changed, and now it was a bright spring day and the sun was shining. It hurt her eyes a bit, unused to the bright light, but it was a good hurt. 

The water was cold, but clean and refreshing, and she swam around in the still water. The lake was about five miles across in each direction, and was the deepest water Tauriel had ever seen. It stretched on to a depth she could not be certain of, she could see the bottom as if it was so close she could just reach out and touch it, yet when she dove under the surface and swam down, her ears filled with pressure and the rocky bottom still seemed no closer. 

And deep within the still water, there were stars. 

They weren’t stars, but she had no better word for them in any language she knew. 

They sparkled up at her, and she was not sure if it was a trick of the light, or if the Silmarils of ancient lore had been dropped in the water where no one could ever retrieve them. But there had only been three Silmarils. Tauriel counted seven shining lights in the deep water of the mountain lake.

Unable to form any conclusion about the strange beauty of this place, Tauriel swam around. She cut through the water like a skinny silver fish, and felt her weariness fade away with every stroke of her arms and every kick of her long legs.

Dried orc blood and other grime slowly loosened it’s hold on her skin and she felt better than she could remember feeling in a long time. She scrubbed away at herself with her fingers until she finally felt like herself again. Then she climbed back on the rock and let the sun dry her skin. As she dried off, she set to work on her hair. First she combed out the tangles with her fingers as well as she could, then she sectioned off a piece for her marriage braid. She’d only done it once before, when Kili had taught her and she had practiced on his unruly dark hair. But she recalled what it was supposed to look like and while it took three tries, she got it. On the other side went the braid of a parent-child bond, which Durin had shown her. That one was simpler. Each braid was fastened with its respective bead and she put the rest of her hair in its usual style to keep it out of her eyes. Once she felt satisfied with her hair she put on her boots and walked to the edge of the lake where she tried to scrub the worst of the muck off her clothes. It only sort of worked. Hopefully she would find a replacement soon. Having done as the spirit asked, she redressed in her underthings, which were moderately less stained by orc blood, and put all her knives back on in their respective sheaths. The runestone and her son’s bead in her pocket, she departed down the mountain towards the trees.

As she walked, she realized that she felt a lot better. She would never be quite the same again, for her heart was now a scarred and broken thing, but she was willing to try to live. 

She felt for the energy of the babe within her, and it was there. The child was alright. A slight bump had formed where it was growing. It was strange to think of herself as a mother, she thought, but the valar had willed it, and she would have to do her best. 

As she made her way down the mountain, she sang softly, an old song her mother had once sung to her, the words lilting and playful and familiar. It was in the language of Silvan elves, a dialect older than Sindarin that had its roots in the ancient Quenya, but even when Thingol banned the use of the tongue from Valinor, Silvan elves had kept their dialect alive, as it was far enough removed from the old high elven speech and Silvan elves too stubborn and strange to give up their ways. 

It was a simple song, about a clear bubbling spring near the village she had been born in. The village had burned to ash centuries ago, and her mother was long dead. She knew not if the spring still ran clear, or if it too had been poisoned by the sickness of Mirkwood. But the song was merry and suited the butterflies dancing on the warm breeze, so she sang it as she walked the path out of the mountains.


	6. The Scout of Lothlorien

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel meets a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. a whole new chapter. it's real.   
> Sorry it took me so long to post anything. I've been really distracted lately, and had to rewrite several times before I was ready to update. I hope you like it!

Haldir was perched comfortably in the fork between two branches of an old and familiar oak, carving something out of a small branch. He was perfectly prepared to do this all day, for this was one of his favorite spots in the whole of the Golden Wood. Away from the hustle and bustle of the canopy settlement in the heart of the forest, this particular tree offered three things in abundance: excellent views of the nearby mountains, a comfortable place to sit, and solitude.

It was one of the perks of living in a secret kingdom. They did not get visitors, save the occasional wizard. 

His king and queen had suggested, time and again, that as the golden wood was, there was no pressing need for scouting the borderlands each day, but Haldir liked to walk the edge of the forest. He enjoyed gazing at the snow capped peaks of the mountains. It gave him something to do.

And if he had found a particularly nice oak tree to sit in and carve small trinkets, it was no one’s business but his.

 

He must have heard some noise, or smelled something in the fresh mountain wind, for he looked up from his work at just the right moment to see a figure making their way down a narrow goat path.

Whoever it was, they had long, damp, red hair that caught his attention like blood on freshly fallen snow. His first thought, strangely, was of a ghost story he had heard once, an age ago, sitting across a campfire with men long dead. He had been young and impressionable then, and their tales of screaming ghost women who told you when you were about to die had frightened him.

Yet in more than a thousand years since that conversation, he had never seen anything like what they had described. Until now.

She was thin as a twig, with skin as pale as the wood of a holly tree, and her hair was long and loose and wild. And even though she was smiling and singing, the very sight of her filled him with fear.

But then his sense of reason kicked in, and he chided himself internally for believing in nonsense stories.

This girl was perhaps strange, but there was nothing about her that should have him quaking in his boots. He called out to her.

“Hello!” he shouted.

She looked around, confused.

“Who are you, and where are you going?” he asked.

She spotted him in his tree. “I am called Tauriel. And I don’t know where I’m going.” She shrugged at him, continuing, “Could you tell me where I am?”

“You don’t know?”

“I’ve been quite lost for some time.”

“Lost where? In the mountains?” he asked. He couldn’t place her accent. 

“I was underground? I’m sorry, but I honestly haven’t got the faintest notion where I am, and you’re the first living soul I’ve seen since…”

“It’s no trouble, miss. There is no one in these lands who would wish ill on a lost traveller. Would you care to tell me of your journey over some lembas?” he asked. Just because she looked rather worse for wear didn’t mean he was going to be _rude._

At first she was wary, but upon hearing the word _lembas_ , a look of such hope and wistfulness crossed her face that he was taken aback. At this moment, he finally noticed her ears. Until now, he had thought himself to be speaking to some woman, perhaps from Rohan or elsewhere, beaten down by tragedy. But in an instant, he realized that standing before him was not woman but elleth.

It was some shock indeed. 

He said at once in Sindarin, “You already know the taste of lembas, don’t you?”

“It has been a very long time.” She replied, switching easily from one language to the next.

“Goodness. Then absolutely you should join me. I have fresh spring water as well, and some of the first berries of the season.”

“Thank you very much.” She said.

“It is nothing. Come sit with me.”

Tauriel climbed easily right up into the canopy of the ancient oak to sit beside him on the branch. 

There he shared his meal with her and she felt something warm and pleasant come over her, something content and at peace. She did not know this strange elf, but he was kind to   
her, and this was enough.

She ate her way through two whole cakes of lembas and a good many tiny spring strawberries before he asked her any questions. She ate carefully, slowly, chewing each bite and deliberately waiting a moment before taking another. It would not help her regain her strength if she made herself sick.

After she had finished, and washed the meal down with cool water, he asked her, “So, how is it that an elleth such as yourself came to be wandering the mountains alone? You said you were underground?”

“Oh, I can scarcely believe it myself, if I hadn’t lived trough it. You see, um, I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“My name is Haldir.”

“Well, Haldir, do you know anything about ghosts these mountains?

“I’ve never seen or heard of any such thing, but the great dwarf city of Moria once stood right under that mountain. There’s no telling what one might find there.”

“Moria?” Tauriel turned to him in shock. She had heard of Moria. 

“The dwarves called it _Khazad-dum_ if I recall correctly. It was the jewel of their civilization. They were our closest trading partners, before they fell into ruin. I remember visiting the city often enough. Tauriel, it was beautiful. Nothing like anything our people would do, but still. Even I could see the beauty in it.”

“You remember it?”

“Yes. Of course I remember it. I was there. Just how young are you?” He asked.

“Only six centuries or so.”

Haldir blinked at her in shock. She was just a child! Who would let one so young go adventuring all alone? Where were her parents? “Ae! You are just a little one, aren’t you?” he exclaimed.

“I am not.” She spat back. “I’ve held a command for two centuries now, and fought in battles… I’ve found my One and lost him. I have walked into and out of the darkness, all on my own. By anyone’s standards I am as grown up as can be!” She fixed him with such a glare then that he felt a shiver of fear.

“Eru Iluvatar! I am sorry, young one! I did not mean to offend. Truly, I am only shocked to hear that one so young has been through so much.”

“I am not that young, sir.”

“Fine. Yes, I was there, and I had friends among the dwarves there.”

“What was it like?” she asked, anger forgotten in the place of burning curiosity.

“It was… they were… vibrant. Have you ever met dwarves before?”

“A few.”

“Then you know what I speak of. They are mortal, yet they live much longer than Men do, and gladly devote their whole lives to creating great works of craftsmanship. They have a love for art that is almost elvish in its intensity.  
Have you ever heard dwarfish song? It’s a delight to behold. Like nothing else in all the world. Their voices are so much deeper than our own, so when they sing… I will never forget it, should I live another thousand years.”

“Could you show me?”

“I don’t remember the words, but there was a song that went something like this…” and trying his best, Haldir awkwardly hummed a tune. It felt like the worst sort of counterfeit, to show her like this, when such songs were meant to be sung in echoing halls, by many voices, with pounding feet adding their own depth to the song. But the dwarves of Moria were all long gone, and in this land, only the elves remembered what they had once been.

Tauriel listened as if her life depended on it. Music was important to elves, as it was memory. It was probably much the same for dwarves. And her child deserved to have as much connection to their father’s history as to the history of her own people. She knew, realistically, that this was not possible.

Her child would be raised immersed in elven customs, simply because that was all she knew. If Kíli had lived, he would be able to teach their child all about dwarves language and customs. But he had died, and with him had gone any chance of that happening. 

As Haldir reached the end of what he could remember, he fell silent.

“That was beautiful.” She said.

“Of course, it sounded nothing at all like that. The sound would echo in the stone chambers, and it was just as important to stamp one’s feet at the right time as to sing.”

“What a wonder that must have been.”

“Of course, that’s saying nothing of what they could do with gold and mithril. They made many such treasures, but if I’m being completely honest I never really understood that.   
What I took notice of was the architecture and the music and the food.”

Strangely enough, Tauriel knew a fair amount about dwarfish cooking. Kíli was prone to waxing poetic about his mother’s recipes when he was homesick and alone, and had spent quite a bit of time talking about his favorite dishes while he was just her prisoner. At the mention of food, though, Tauriel realized that she should probably try to recreate these dishes for her own child. Food was memory too, after all.

Haldir noticed that his companion had gotten lost in her own thoughts. “You seem to have quite an interest in dwarves, my friend. You know, they haven’t had good relations with us in centuries.”

“Ah, well, I’ve always been curious.” Tauriel said, hoping he wouldn’t ask to many questions.

“I should hope so. Curiosity a great strength, in our people. Don’t lose it.”

“Of course.”

“And speaking of curiosity, I noticed that you never answered my question about where you came from.”

“Well, I come from King Thranduil’s kingdom, what was once the Great Green Wood, but now most outsiders rightly call it Mirkwood.”

“Goodness, that’s quite far off. And in a rather different direction than the one you arrived in as well. I feel there’s a story there.”

“Well I left. I was banished, too, but not before I’d made up my mind already to leave. I used to be the captain of the guard there.”

“And why did you leave?”

“I left for a lot of reasons. Because our homeland was slowly dying and my king would do nothing about it. Because I felt my life would be better spent elsewhere. Because I was tired of being accused of seducing prince Legolas. Because I met my One, and I wanted to follow him.

I had never left my home before, not once, but then, seemingly overnight, I could not stand to stay a minute longer.”

“Sometimes that happens. I take it your One was not this Prince?”

“Ae! No. He’s like my brother. A friend I trust with my life certainly, but there's nothing romantic about it.”

“So you left home to follow your One. That’s not so unusual. It happens all the time.”

“Yes, I suppose. But my One was rather bold and reckless. We hardly had a moment together it seems before he died in battle, and I was left without the slightest idea what to do.  
I lost myself, then, in anger and grief, and ran off to kill every orc I could, in hopes that one of them might land a lucky blow and end my suffering. But instead, I just got lost in the tunnels, all alone, and wandered in the darkness. I don’t know how long I was there, or how far I travelled, but it must have been months that I walked alone.”

Haldir looked at her in amazement. How was she still standing, still sane?

“How did you escape?” he asked.

“I met a ghost in that darkness who guided me out. The ghost of a dwarf. He dried my tears and led me to a way out. I found myself standing on the side of a great mountain, above a glittering lake filled with stars.”

“The Mirrormere.” Haldir provided.

“I did as the spirit instructed and bathed in the waters, and then I came down this path, where I met you. I still have hardly the faintest notion where I am or even how long I have been traveling.”

“Do you know when you went underground?”

“Oh, it must have been just after the winter solstice.”

“Ae!” 

"What's wrong? How long have I been lost?"

"Far too long, Tauriel. The year is passing from spring into summer now!"

"So I had suspected." Tauriel nodded to herself. She would need to be careful in the coming months. She would need all the fresh air and clean spring water she could get, and to carefully regain her lost weight, lest it harm the child she carried. 

"You should not have strayed so long underground. It is not healthy."

"Believe me, Haldir, I know how near I was to death. I have no plans to return to that place."

"Very well. Where do you plan to go?"

"I'm not entirely sure. The spirit in the mountain told me to follow this path, and that I would find a friend here, someone he had known in life that could help me. I took that to mean someone among the Eldar, as no one else could be expected to live that long, but he gave me no name to ask for. Perhaps it is you?"

"I will admit I have something of a reputation as a friend of mortals, but if it's cryptic guidance from the long dead that brought you here, then I think I know exactly who you need." 

Haldir smiled to himself. This was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos make me smile and comments are like the blood sacrifices that keep the sun rising each morning.


	7. The Lady Galadriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel meets with the Lady Galadriel...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A NEW CHAPTER! yikes, it's been a while, but here I am with the first new chapter in a long while. Hope you like it, the plot is moving forward again, forecasts predict some proper adventuring will happen very soon.

It was several hours of travel from the outskirts of the forest to wherever Haldir was leading her. Tauriel felt herself asking half a million questions, about the local flora and fauna, about differences in custom from region to region, about what he did that had him so isolated from other elves.

It was strange to her, that he roamed the land without a partner for backup.

Such a thing could be certain death in Mirkwood.

Haldir, in turn, had many questions about her home, about Thranduil, about her skills and knowledge.

She anwered what she could.

As they spoke, Tauriel took in the thriving forest landscape, the smooth, silver barked trees native to this region.  
She observed bright speckled birds picking in the undergrowth, and herds of elegant red deer who watched them cautiously. Sweet smelling flowering vines trailed up some of the trees, but not others. A thick carpet of moss and soft, short grasses covered the ground. Here and there were boulders of granite, the same stone as that of the mountains she had just left, covered in lichens, mosses, and small hardy plants.

It was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen. 

She wondered if Kíli had ever been somewhere like this. He had seen many things that she had not, after all. She knew Mirkwood, and the Long Lake, and those lands nearby. But in six centuries of life, she hadn't seen but a fraction of the world. It was beginning to occur to her that this was to her detriment.  
She thought about all the places she'd heard about in stories, in legends. It would be very nice to see it all for herself, she decided.  
After some time, they came to a great tree with stout branches spiraling upwards beginning at a lower height than most she had seen so far.  
Haldir ran forward with a practiced grace and placed his foot upon a particular knot in the wood. From there, he swiftly leapt, grasping the lowest branch with both hands and hoisting himself up to stand firmly upon it.

Tauriel examined the tree carefully, and with barely a moment's consideration, leapt to copy his movements. Her movements were stiff, she found, yet she managed to reach the canopy with minimal difficulty, and her heart was racing in an alarming way when she did.

"Come on then, we still have a ways to go." Haldir said, turning away and beginning to climb.

Tauriel followed along, testing the strength in sore and even atrophied muscles. Her grip was as strong as ever, and the motions held the grace of a lifetime of practice, but Tauriel noted with some chagrin how the climb exhausted her. Gone was the bone deep sense that she could climb forever and never grow weary.

At the same time, she felt a thrill climbing these strange new trees that could not be ignored. Was this what the Great Green Wood had been like once, when Thranduil had been a young and foolish prince?

The canopy was full of light, and golden leaves rustled gently in a light breeze. She followed Haldir as he moved swiftly from tree to tree, and breathed in the clean air. She started to notice the architectural details distinguishing wild forest from elven cultivation. Branches too elegantly curved to be entirely natural, leaves arranged in ways that filled space, but never to thickly, cutting light into speckles that fell to the forest floor. A tingle on her skin that spoke of powerful magic and only got stronger the further she travelled. 

And then, in the space between one breath and the next, whoever was in charge finally made up their mind, and they were surrounded on all sides by suspicious blond elves. Several thought she was an ill omen, with her red hair and her mysterious origins. She looked too thin, too shaky, like her grip on reality had been loosened and naught was left but threads. They brought her to Galadriel. 

“And just who are you, little one?” The fair lady spoke.

“I am Tauriel, former Captain of the Guard in the Greenwood.”

Galadhriel noticed at once the young elf’s accent. It came from the far northern realm of King Thranduil, a long isolated place where the folk spoke still in the local Silvan dialect more often than not. It sounded like she had a mouthful of marbles. 

“And how did you find your way here, so far from home?”

“I-well, my king gave me an order I could not in good conscience obey.”

“And what did you do?”

“I deserted. I left the only home I had ever known, allied myself with strangers, gave my heart away on reckless impulse.” Pride filled her voice, she practically dared the ancient one to argue with her. But her blazing eyes met no resistance. Galadhriel met her with a blank openness. 

“Yet you come into my lands alone. What led you here in such a state?”

“Tell me, great lady, what do you hear of the world beyond your trees? Has word reached you yet of a great battle some months past? On the edge of the long lake, beneath the lonely mountain, between armies of Dwarves and Orcs, for the most part, though wood Elves, Men, and Eagles were also involved.”

“Ah. Yes. They are calling it the Battle of the Five Armies.”

“How did they figure that?”

“Clearly this name is insufficient. Would you tell me in your opinion what it was?”

“It was a nightmare." She took a deep breath. "First there was the dragon, Smaug, who had been slain just days past, after a company of dwarves woke him from his long slumber. He burned the Laketown to ashes before an arrow pierced his heart. I was with the refugees as they fled to the ruins of Dale for some shelter from the snows. They were in such a wretched state, they declared the man who felled the creature their king. His name is Bard, and I believe he will be a good king, but still. They only did it out of desperation.”

“So that was the men, what of the dwarves?”

“They were in two main groups, the company of Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, who was the rightful king under the mountain by the laws of his people, and there was the army of Dain Ironfoot, his distant cousin, who came to his aid. They were perhaps the only proper army in the whole affair, well supplied, mounted on rams, well trained in warfare.”

“Not Thorin’s company?”

“Oh they had some fighters, but they numbered only fourteen total, and they were less soldiers than brawlers, a scrappy bunch of lunatics who had just trekked half across the world to fight a dragon. They were no match for what they faced.”

“And what was that?”

“Every fell creature from beneath the Misty Mountains and Mount Gundabad. Thousands of orcs and goblins, many mounted on wargs. Enormous black bats with a terrific surplus of teeth. Wyrms from beneath the earth who burst out of the ground and devoured their victims whole.”

“And you were there?”

“Yes. I was- I was there, I-“ Her voice broke.

“I see.”

“No. _You don’t see."_ She spat. "I held him as he bled out in my arms, there was nothing I could do, and he hadn’t even had a chance to tell his family yet. That we were married. I thought we would have decades, even a century or two, before death took him from me. We had six days." Tauriel sneezed her eyes shut, half trying to stop tears, half holding back unwarranted anger and irritation at this great Lady for her serenity, half still choking on the pain of it all.  
"So I ran. I killed every orc I could find and I found myself lost within the goblin tunnels under Mount Gundabad. I don’t know how long I wandered there in the darkness, but somehow I managed to stumble into some ancient magic that woke a long dead spirit." 

A furrow formed between Galadriel's perfect brows. 

Tauriel continued "And he was kind. He dried my tears and led me out of the darkness and bid me to walk down the mountain, where he said I would meet someone, an old friend of his, who could help me. So that is what I did. I followed the spirit's instructions and then I met Haldir and he brought me here to you.”

“And did this spirit have a name?

“He said he was Durin, my lady. He said he was Durin, the first of the dwarves.”

“Durin?” the lady seemed quite surprised. “I suppose you have no reason to lie. But why would an ancient dwarf king come to your aid?”

“My king banished me for many reasons, great lady, but among those reasons was that he disagreed with the one to whom I gave my heart. A young dwarf, who travelled with King Thorin to reclaim the lonely mountain from the dragon Smaug. But as I told you, he died. The spirit in the mountain saw what I did not see myself, that I carry Kili’s child. _That’s the reason he gave for helping me. He said I had to be the mother of one of his descendants or he wouldn’t have risen when I bled on the stones._ I didn’t even know it was possible.”

“...” 

Galadriel thought for a long while, not saying anything at all. Tauriel watched her anxiously, wide green eyes brimming with apprehension. The wise one looked into the waters of her scrying pool, but distractedly, not searching for anything, just letting her eyes rest on the surface while her thoughts settled into place. 

It shocked her, first, that such a thing could happen. In all her many centuries of life, she had never heard of such a union. Yet upon closer examination of the thought, it seemed more like the kind of thing that was bound to happen at some point, if only one waited long enough. Apparently, she had lived long enough.

A slow smile spread across her face, bright as midday sun on a polished blade. “Well, little one.” 

Tauriel hesitated. “Are you going to send me away?”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know? Because I married a dwarf? Because I’m a stranger telling tales of ghosts in mountains and I must be quite mad?”

“Little one, you do not seem mad to me.” Her eyes were warm and she smiled with perfect white teeth. “I would like to help you, if I can.”

“Oh.” Tauriel stopped. 

“Now, you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish, but I believe I may be able to offer you a better opportunity elsewhere if you would give me time to arrange some matters on your behalf.”

“What do you mean? Where am I supposed to go?”

“You are about to have a child, Tauriel, and children aught to have far more than the simple safety my realm can provide. They require playmates, room to grow and explore and learn, if they are to be truly happy.  
No child has been born here in centuries. Your son or daughter would be alone here, and suffer from this lack of companions. Aside from this, your child will face unique challenges from being half mortal. Therefore I suggest you make one final journey before the babe is born.”

Tauriel moved as if to speak, but the lady Galadriel held up a hand. “Across the misty mountains, my daughter’s husband lives in a protected valley, which perhaps you have heard of before. Imladris?

“Imladris? The home of Lord Elrond?”

“So you do know of it. What can you tell me of him?”

“That he has the power of a king?” Tauriel grasped for memories of Prince Legolas’s lessons on foreign kingdoms and diplomacy. “He has the largest library in the West outside Minas Tirith? He has two sons and a daughter and King Thranduil is… not fond of him?”

“Yes, all of that is true. However, perhaps the more important detail, to you at least, is that he is half-elven himself.”

Tauriel’s eyes widened. “So he must be…”

“A descendent of Luthien and Beren, yes. And as such, he will understand better than any alive the struggles your child will face. He has also taken in another widowed mother and her child very recently, so neither you nor your child would be alone in that regard.”

“An elven mother?” Tauriel asked, beginning to worry. The last thing she needed was some fairer-than-thou elleth who never made a single wrong decision in her perfect, blonde little life sighing over a husband she’d known since time immemorial. Such a lady would probably look down her nose at Kíli’s child just the same as any of the folk back home.

“No, a woman. She is an outsider there too, Tauriel.”

“Well then. I’ll go if it’s best for my child,” Tauriel decided, a bit weary of telling her story so many times. It was not a nice story, after all, just rather sad. And no matter how many kind strangers she met on her journey, the story itself was likely to remain much the same. It might be centuries before she found Kíli again. “But how am I to find the valley of Imladris?” she asked.

“I will give you a map, Tauriel.” Galadriel said matter of factly, “As well as new clothes and whatever supplies you will need. But I insist that you stay at least a week before you leave us, so that you may rest and recover some of your strength.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“I am happy to assist you, Tauriel.”And while the young wood elf was half convinced her new host was quite mad, she believed her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I plan for this fic to cover from here to the end of The Return of the King. Let me know what you think so far.


End file.
